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His eyes never leave mine as he puts my fingers into his mouth. His tongue flicks around my skin. "Deliziosa."

Heat spreads over my face and between my legs, and a small moan escapes me. He sucks on my finger before he swallows the bread. Time stands still as we stare into each other's eyes, all while he never stops kissing my fingers. A magic spell holds us captive, and I don't think I'll ever want to be free.

After a while, he hesitantly lets go of my hand and rises. "Let me check on the food."

He returns with a tray. "Madame."

He lifts the cloche, and the scent of something buttery and rich hits my nose. Antonio says nothing at first, just watches me with that infuriating, knowing look.

“Oeufs mollets Florentine,” he announces, “with Mornay, a hint of nutmeg, and Périgord Black Truffles.” His fake French accent may be the worst the world has ever heard.

I recognize the truffles; I’ve only had them once before, when Dad was invited to the governor's place. The lady to my righthad filled me in that a pound of them can cost up to a thousand dollars.

"I didn't know you were going to be the waiter tonight." I hardly recognize my voice; it sounds raunchy.

"Mais oui, Madame, it's my pleasure." He winks.

It's a good thing I'm sitting, because my knees turn to mush. Drinking him in, I watch him use golden tongs to place two perfect soft-boiled eggs, nestled over velvety spinach and topped with pale golden sauce and the faintest dusting of cheese, on my plate before doing the same for his plate.

“This doesn’t exactly scream seduction,” I tease, moving my fork through the spinach.

“No,” he agrees. “But it does whispernourishment.”

“That’s not remotely sexy,” I remark, wondering when he started paying attention tonourishment.

“I disagree. Feeding you is my favorite foreplay.” He winks sexily.

I cut into the egg. The yolk is soft but not runny. Just right. “Is this one of your weird little tests?”

“Maybe.” He takes a sip of sparkling water, eyes twinkling. “Maybe I’m just making sure you’re eating enough folate.”

The fork nearly drops from my fingers. “Excuse me?”

He grins, completely ignoring the question. "Bon appétit," he grins, opening his napkin, "Eat up, passerotta. We have two more courses before dessert.” He exaggerates the way he fluffs out the napkin, and I take the hint, putting the fork back down.I reach for mine and imitate his move, when something comes flying out.

"What?"

"I got it." Antonio is on his knees, looking for whatever came out of the napkin. Worriedly, I move my chair back, my eyes searching the red carpet. Something glitters, but Antonio snatches it before I can see what it is. He scoots to my side, rising until he is on one knee, and takes my hand.

"Scarlet."

My heart stutters—there is no other word for it. It simply stutters as I stare at him in disbelief. The weight of his presence wraps around me like a promise. It's way too late to look for an escape; that route burned down to ashes the moment he saved me.

"I've lived my life by two rules—never ask for permission, and never owe anyone anything. But for you, I'd break them both. You didn't just walk into my world; youownit now—whether you meant to or not. And the way I feel about you? It's not something I can fight, and believe me, I've tried.

"This life, the things I do... It's not easy. There are risks, enemies, and no guarantees. But if there's one thing I am sure of, it's that I don't want any of it without you. I'd give you anything—everything—and if anyone tried to take you from me, I'd tear his heart out and make him eat it.

"So I'm asking you, here and now—marry me. Be my wife. Stand by my side. Because you're already my heart, my home, and my only weakness, and there's no going back." He winks at me and looks so fucking good, I feel like I'm having a hot flash. He wasn'tlying when he said I would know when he pulled out arealmarriage proposal.

He opens his palm, and inside is the single most gorgeous ring I've ever seen. A blue sapphire, very close to the color of my eyes, sits in the center, surrounded by smaller diamonds, which are in turn surrounded by baguette diamonds. Every single stone sparkles in the soft lighting.

"Antonio, it's beautiful."

"Is that a yes?"

"What do you think?" I fly off my chair and tackle him to the ground. The ring once again goes flying somewhere, but neither one of us cares. His lips are on mine, muffling my moans. There is no tender foreplay. We're both starving for the real thing. His hands hike up my skirt, and mine are busy freeing his fully erect cock. Precum on its head glistens in the candlelight.

"Scarlet," he moans as I take him into my hands. He's so thick that my fingers won't fit all the way around. He pushes my hand to the side. "Too much," he groans.